Colour My Prejudice

By Bonolo Melanie Rakumakoe

Zimkhitha Majola is a young woman is curious about the world she lives in, throughout her most enduring years, she is yet to experience pain, enter into a life of promiscuity, call in love alone and fall pregnant with Msweli's child. She is forced to make a decision that she regrets but learns from. The drama that unfolds is one that she would have to carry with pride and begin her journey anew.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781312975682

Book preview

Colour My Prejudice

Colour My Prejudice

Bonolo Melanie Rakumakoe

Bonolo Melanie Rakumakoe

COLOUR MY PREJUDICE

Print ISBN: 978-1490571379

eBook ISBN: 978-1-312-97568-2

Copyright © 2013 Bonolo Melanie Rakumakoe

All Rights Reserved

Layout and formatting by Tiisetso Maloma

www.atlargecommunications.co.za

Contents

Colour My Prejudice

Bonolo Melanie Rakumakoe

Synopsis

Dedication

Acknowledgements

GETTING TO KNOW HER

♣

The Creative In Her

Colour My Prejudice

Colour My Prejudice (Aluta Continua)

♣ Untitled Poems ♣

♣♣

♣♣

♣♣

Coitus

♣

Sexcapades

Homecoming

The Lows

Stars

Tolerance & Understanding

♣

…and I kept on writing

Life (Part I)

Life (Part II)

You

Step Towards Light (maybe)

♣

Silence kills

Not All Days Will Be The Same

♣

Mirror

Msweli & Zimkhitha

♣

A Gentleman Is Simply A Patient Wolf

1st Time For Everything

♣

Mantsho

Why mother?

Truth be told

♣

♣

Tears

♣

Untitled

♣

20th of April

♣

Invisible Souls

And then...

Sigh…

♣

Kodjo

Bug(ged)

Going through changed

Get in touch with Bonolo

Synopsis

A young woman, Zimkhitha Majola, finds herself in a whirlpool of depression over past mishaps. The most important relationship she has yearned for - for years falls under the cracks of animosity. She finds solace in sex, writing and art.

Later on, she falls in love alone and falls pregnant with Msweli’s child. He finds out, and she is yet to endure pain and angst, and she never thought she would go through it also, solely.

Dedication

To Zimkhitha Majola; this is her truth and no one else’s. Should it resonate, speak or move your soul in any way that you may only understand, she has achieved what was not her goal, but her hope. We have walked different paths in our time – And this is one of many that land a mark on the soils she has touched and yet to venture.

Acknowledgements

Colour My Prejudice came together through the efforts of a number of forces. They all believed in my vision, constantly encouraged and supported me throughout this journey. Their insight has carried me afloat and to them I express my gratitude. Bless you all.

Paradoxically, we achieve true wholeness only by embracing our fragility and sometimes, our brokenness – Jalaja Bonheim

GETTING TO KNOW HER

She opted for total darkness when she went to bed at night. The thought of wearing pyjamas was somewhat a childlike act to her; she loved the feel of her skin when it met with the sheets and the blankets. It felt like something utterly sensual. She felt she had already done so throughout the day, with her beautiful body covered in garments of different textures. Liberation for her was being content with her nakedness. Her body was not a reminder or the origin of pain, there was no feeling of uneasiness and discontent, it was a beautiful creation, and it reminded her that she had a duty to love, praise and maintain it for as long as she was in this time. She found no comfort in clothing; for her, one was ought to be able to sleep at night and enjoy and appreciate what is clothing their soul.

She enjoyed lighting the torch on her phone and would marvel at the arresting sight of the tiny specks of dust that we seldomly get to see in daylight, unless when the sun rays are beaming through the window in a dark room. The specks would dance so freely in the air, as though listening to music she could not hear, perhaps listening to their own unique type of jazz, foreign to humankind. The sight always put a smile on her forever lonesome face. Besides, her insomnia seemed to have no interest in her anymore, it clearly had other victims to pester for it no longer paid her a visit like before, but she pondered a lot, especially about her life and where it was leading her, if it even had to lead her anywhere. Wondered what her purpose was, what moved her and most importantly what did not take away from her as an individual. There would either be a deep sigh or a short lived smile. Imagination for her was the most powerful tool to carve one into the person they yearned to be, especially regarding where they pictured themselves in a couple of years to come. An open plan house with little souls running around and a sweet but assertive husband were on her list. A room in the house solely for her clothing and countless ‘fuck me’ shoes to add to her joy. She would snap out of her thoughts and softly murmur: One day.

She prefers I refer to her as Zimkhitha rather than her other name. I acknowledge.

♣

When morning came, the first thing she did when she opened her eyes and had digesting her surroundings, was to get out of bed, walk towards the window, get a peek of the sky, and thank the Supreme Being for life. She found joy, strength and comfort in Him. He was the silent teacher who knew all her desires; her flaws, heartaches, and darkest secrets. She spoke to him in the midst of sorrow or when she was in a safe, untainted space, where no noise existed.

It is fine with me that He only listens and does not respond. What a patient being. He never brushes me away when I confide and burden him with my cries, does not interfere either. I do wish He could hold me in his comforting arms while my head rests on his chest, listening to him breathe in and out. And I wonder if He smiles when I am sharing my happy moments, when I thank him for all I am blessed with. I wonder if He is modest or even sarcastic. No need for me to hear His voice, which I assume is too loud for a tiny speck like me to endure. He is Supreme after all, she would say.

Doubt everything – Find your own light – Siddhartha Gautama (c.623 – 543 BCE) became Buddha at age 35

Church was her least favourite place to go to. I could not fathom whether she had experienced something tragic or embarrassing for her not to want to enter the house of the Lord. She often asked whether Jesus was bogus or really someone who the bible claims to be God’s son. Christianity was that one religion she did not want to follow. The bible itself seemed like the bestselling book written by many authors for her, it’s peculiar that she had never even read the Holy book. She would make faces when she even caught a glimpse of it on her mother’s dressing table.

"I have thought of reading it before I could pass judgement onto it. I have read many a books but I have not read the bible, I have paged through it and I did not connect with it, I did not feel the Holy Spirit. It did not move me. I feared I might have had a different perspective towards it, worse; I could have all of a sudden port to Christianity, of which I doubted. I found little solace in it. I have been labelled confused by some of its followers who seem to be recruiters rather than attentive listeners – Agents of the Lord.

I recall one